


Indiana

by CyberpunkDragons



Category: Original Work
Genre: Crossdressing, F/M, Oral Sex, Prostitution, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-10 20:15:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18415064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyberpunkDragons/pseuds/CyberpunkDragons
Summary: Indiana works in their family's diner, but they'd rather be out back "meeting" the truckers who stop by.





	Indiana

It was a strange, sticky summer, and it was in the bathroom of her father’s diner that Indie realised what she wanted most in life.

Pulling on her pretty yellow sundress, it felt right. The soft cotton, bright yellow like the sun and flowy about her legs. She felt free as she twirled about in the locked bathroom stall.

Sitting down on the shut toilet, she pulled her heels from her backpack and removed her gym shoes. The heels slipped on like they were made for her feet. She stood tentatively, shaking a little as she steadied herself.

She almost dared herself to step out of the stall, and after a long minute debating with herself and watching through the cracks she swung the door open and took her first steps.

When she had reached the sinks without stumbling and she could finally look at herself in the mirror all her nerves passed. She hadn’t even realised she was trembling until it stopped and she stared at herself. Her shoulders were too wide, her face was too square, her hair was too short, her eyes weren’t round enough, her arms were too hairy, she had stubble on her chin, her ears stuck out from her head like an elephant, her nose was-

“Oh, sorry miss,” the drawl of a man from out west stunned her from her self-examination.

She blushed, turned to see him gone but only for a moment until he realised she was standing in the men’s bathroom. When he came back and she had been frozen in place for nearly a minute, he examined her more closely.

“Wasn’t my mistake,” he clarified, “hope you realise you’re in the men’s room.”

She swallowed, the trembling was back.

“Don’t mind me,” he said stepping past her towards the stalls.

The man went to the end, and Indie rushed to her stall to get redressed in her normal clothes. Instead she sat with the door locked, hot and nearly dying from embarrassment until a toilet flushed and the man stepped out. She watched him through the crack of the door.

“You still in here?”

She froze again, body aching. After a moment he washed his hands, “Shame, she was a pretty little thing.”

Then he scoffed, “Probably outta my price range anyway.”

He wiped his wet hands on his jeans and turned to leave. She reached for the door.

“Wait!”

Her voice, the voice that escaped her wasn’t her own, her hands were trembling as she opened the door. She looked at him, still sitting on the toilet and scarlet red.

“What did you mean by out of your price range?”

He looked her up and down, for the first time really taking her in. He must have noticed.

“Sorry ma’am, I took you for a hooker. Common to find them waiting around for clients at these sorts of places.”

“You think I’m not?”

“I-Well, if you are then...”

She stood, not entirely sure what to do with herself, so she folded her arms and tried to hide her flat chest.

“I might be.”

“Right,” the man pressed a finger to his nose. He was a good looking kind of guy, the kind she had pined over most of her life before drowning down those thoughts in beer and bible.

“Pretty young thing like you, I’d kill for some alone time with. Got a bunk in my truck, got some beer.”

“You got cash?”

“I do, but uh, only got a hundred on me.”

She nodded, mind still reeling over how this guy didn’t notice, “I uh, I’ll suck your dick if you pay me.”

The man’s hand immediately slipped south, but his face was just shock. Maybe she had been too blunt.

“For a hundred? Hate to imagine what getting in that nice little ass of yours would cost.”

“Got any in your truck?”

He laughed, stepping up to the door of the stall, “I like you, but I got nothing but the money in my wallet and the truck out front.”

She gestured him closer, “Give me the money and I’ll uh, I’ll get you, uh, off.”

“Sure I got no chance of getting in that sweet ass of yours?”

“No!”

He smirked, wicked as the devil, pulling out his wallet. Seeing it, slightly trepidatious but mostly hoping his cock was fatter, she took his money and then a hold of his belt. They worked together to unzip his jeans, she was a bundle of conflicting energy tearing itself apart. Aroused, licentious, shamed, she knew that god was looking down on her and part of her felt his reassurance. A loving god would not make her solely to suffer without forgiveness, and she was past the point where she could stop herself.

She was working on instinct as she gasped, intimidated by the man’s size, perhaps only because of unfamiliarity. It was soft in her hands, but hardened as she eased her fingers along his length. The man ran his fingers through her short hair, at any moment he could realise, but for this moment he closed his eyes as she wrapped her lips around his tip.

It wasn’t that it felt natural, but it came so easily to her mind. The feel of him in her mouth, his weight and his heat, the way he gripped the back of her head gently as she sucked. It was that it felt good and she could just let her mind ease off and surrender to her body.

She realised what it was she wanted in life there, sitting with her head pressed into a man’s crotch and her stomach floating. The way he filled her mouth and spilled out over her lips, the taste of him.

A pair of fifty dollar bills in her hand, salt and sweat. He left her with a compliment, the words themselves didn’t matter, all that matters was he was happy and oblivious and it had left her swimming in excitement.

It didn’t matter how she had realised it, what mattered was what she realised and it felt cruel to strip down and shove away her heels and dress. Hiding away that part of herself into a black backpack, only so she could dress and head back into the diner.

Mom was waitressing when they saw her. Her father’s diner was on a highway, wrapped up in forest and starting to fall to pieces. It was old, like something out of the fifties. A long counter that her mother was standing behind. The counter was lined with stools. Three walls were made of windows that looked out into the surrounding landscape. The front windows looked out towards the road and the other two sides were parking lots for trucks. Everything was a pale red, white and blue.

“Indiana!” Mom called her over, looking her up and down, “You’re late sweetie.”

“Sorry,” she smiled, “the roads were busy today.”

Mom sighed, “I’m going to lose you to that city some day.”

She came around the counter, grabbing the rag and spray bottle from underneath it as Mom ruffled her hair.

“My sweet little boy, you grew up too fast. How was school?”

“Uh, boring... you know, holiday season coming up.”

“I wish you’d try to get a job in town, honey.”

“I know Mom,” she started to clean the counter. There weren’t many patrons, just the two usual from town. The bell rung as another entered and she busied herself with the counter while Mom spoke with them.

“Just a coffee,” the man’s voice raised her head, it was the man from the bathroom.

He looked at her, smiled as oblivious as ever and his eyes turned down toward the pie displayed in front of her on glass plates under glass.

“That pie looks good, made here?”

Mom nodded, “Everything here, I bake, fresh every morning.” Pad and pen in hand.

“Apple?”

“Strawberry.”

The man gave an appreciative little nod, then looked up at her before turning his eyes to Mom, “Strongest black coffee you can make and a slice of that pie.”

He reached for his wallet, and she half expected to see it empty, but he mustered up a twenty, “Thank you Ma’am.”  
Mom wrote it down, tallied it up, took the twenty to the cash register to collect the man’s change. She fetched the plate and the cup, placed the cup on the counter and focused on getting the pie.

The man watched her as she worked, watching for his food no doubt but it left her on edge.

“Mother and son?”

“Yes,” she said to him, lifting the glass pie-tray lid.

“That’s sweet. I used to work with my momma as well.”

“Uh-huh,” she cut a slice and gently lifted it onto the plate.

“We worked at a motel down in California on a stretch of the Mojave Freeway. Strange place to grow up,” the man took his change when Mom brought it to him before heading out back to make a fresh pot of coffee.

The man smiled, “You meet a lot of strange people working here?”

She eyed him suspiciously, placing the pie down before him, knife still in her hands, fingers white from strain, “No.”

“I did, still do. Can I get a fork or something, please?”

She placed down the knife to fetch him a fork, and once she handed it over her fingers found their way back to the knife.

“Thanks kindly.” He examined the pie before looking back up at her, “Momma always told me to keep the secrets of strangers, because you never know what they’re going through.”

“She sounds smart.”

He nodded, then finally forked the pie and took a mouthful. He was thankfully quiet as he ate, letting her get back to her task of wiping down the unoccupied counter. Mom brought him his coffee and until he finished both he kept to himself.

As he left, he flashed a smile, then went his way after leaving a tip. As quickly as he had come into her life he was gone. 

Part of that kept her awake that night, the most part though was wondering about how to spend his money. Early into the morning she stood in front of the bathroom mirror examining herself, dressed in a shirt and long pants, sneakers...

Imagining herself in a yellow dress and high heels.


End file.
